


(I Don't Know) What's Right And What's Real Anymore

by Ladderofyears



Series: Drarropoly Founders Edition 2020 [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternative Chapter 24 - No Sectumsempra, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Different Scene Ending, Draco Is Attracted To Harry, Drarropoly: Founders Edition - A Drarry Game/Fest, Frightened Draco Malfoy, Gen, Guilty Draco Malfoy, Harry Is A Real Saviour, M/M, More Like A Real Ghost! Myrtle, POV Draco Malfoy, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Quote: Unless I do it soon… He says he’ll kill me, harry is a hero
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:34:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28130973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ladderofyears/pseuds/Ladderofyears
Summary: An alternative Sectumsempra scene from Harry Potter and The Half-Blood Prince.Draco wiped away his tears with the back of his hand. As he lifted his head, Draco caught a movement in the back of the bathroom. Wild black hair. Burgundy robes. Green eyes.Circe’s teeth. It was Potter. Perfect Harry Potter, agent of his family's humiliation.Stupid Harry Potter who radiated goodness and light with his very existence.  Draco gritted his teeth, waves of impotent hurt rolling through him. Harry Potter, who was brave and wonderful and who swirled through Draco’s secret fantasies like a curse. Harry Potter, come to witness Draco’s greatest disgrace.Harry Potter, the Boy Who’d Lived to save them all. All of them except Draco. Nobody could save him.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: Drarropoly Founders Edition 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2039589
Comments: 12
Kudos: 105
Collections: Drarropoly '20: Founders Edition





	(I Don't Know) What's Right And What's Real Anymore

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gnarf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gnarf/gifts).



> This is a Drarropoly: Founders Edition fic. The theme was _Ghosts of Hogwarts_ and my character was the very lovely Moaning Myrtle! I always found her a little daft in the films so I've made her a little more ghostly and realistic in this story. 
> 
> This is an OWL Level story as it includes the concept of schadenfreude. 
> 
> All the highlighted words are Draco and Myrtle's canon dialogue from Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. 
> 
> The title are lyrics from Lily Allen's 2009 song: _The Fear._

Draco cast his eyes around the empty corridor cautiously. He _seemed_ to be alone but one could never tell at Hogwarts. Draco rubbed his dry, itchy eyes. He could feel that familiar prickle at the nape of his neck. 

Those eyes were watching him again. 

He’d even imagined that he’d seen something only the day before, some flicker at the very corner of his vision. Draco had put it down to exhaustion and the misused Dreamless Sleep he’d pinched from the Hospital Wing. There’d been more than one occasion in recent weeks where he’d felt concealed eyes watching his every move.

Draco had spun around, as fast as a hex but there hadn’t been anyone there. 

Part of Draco put it down to paranoia – he hardly slept or ate any more – but he doubted he was that lucky. It was likely some sycophant of the Dark Lord, reporting back on his lack of success. Draco swallowed, panicky fear blooming inside his heart. It didn’t matter which spell, enchantment or piece of rarefied magic Draco tried. His attempts at fixing the Vanishing Cabinet were piteous and futile.

With a shake of his head, Draco pushed away the fanciful thoughts racing through his brain. He _had_ to press on with his mission, for the consequences where he were to fail were dire. 

With a hard shove to the ancient damp-swollen wood, Draco pushed open the door of the abandoned sixth floor boy’s bathroom. 

Merlin, but Draco hoped Myrtle would be waiting for him. 

He was farcical, really. Pathetic. He was the scion of a pure-blood family. He was a special mission, set for him alone by the Dark Lord, yet he’d taken to making these ridiculous little pilgrimages. Myrtle was the only sympathetic ear in the entirety of this damnably miserable school. 

Draco liked to close his eyes and pretend he was talking to Pansy. 

Draco liked to pretend that everything was as it once was, where all he’d cared about was broomsticks, grades and ragging precious Potter. Draco liked to pretend that the family he loved wasn’t _ash_ , wasn’t a burnt offering sacrificed on the altar of Voldemort. 

Draco flinched. Flinched at his idiocy. He’d been foolish. He wasn’t even supposed to think the Dark Lord’s name. Draco remembered his Mother’s ring digging into his arm as she’d clasped it hard, her grey eyes full of terror. “He can hear your thoughts,” she’d whispered. “He can feel your disloyalty. You mustn't, _mustn’t_ let him inside of you.”

The floor of the bathroom was sopping and grimy. Draco stepped forward, letting the door close behind him.

“Myrtle?” Draco called out quietly into the silence. He’d die of shame if anyone heard him. “Are you here? Don’t hide!”

The final word had barely left Draco’s lips when there was a splash in the end cubicle. Myrtle floated out though the door. Water puddled at her feet as she hovered only feet from where Draco stood. The stench of decay and wretchedness that surrounded Myrtle filled his nostrils. Draco didn’t fear ghosts – long dead Malfoy ancestors stalked his Manor bedroom each night – but something about Myrtle’s youth and naked desperation repulsed him. 

Myrtle’s eyes flicked over him. Her lips pouted. 

“You’ve come to see me,” Myrtle murmured in a sing-song voice. “All these days and you don’t come, and I’ve been waiting. Waiting and crying and _waiting_.” A smile danced around the edge of her mouth. “I’ve been thinking about you. Thinking about _you_. I can help you, Draco.”

Draco knew that Myrtle couldn’t help him. 

Nobody could. What he’d been tasked to do was despicable. Draco knew he was many things. Draco was spoilt and obnoxious. He was cruel, weak and a dreadful bully. Draco knew he was terribly flawed but he wasn’t a murderer. Katie Bell’s stricken face haunted Draco’s few dreams. The mere sight of Weasley in the corridors filled him with an aching, painful guilt. 

Yet Draco also knew he hadn’t a choice. 

His Father and Mother would be killed were he to fail and then his own life would be forfeit too. Draco needed to fix the Vanishing Cabinet. Otherwise he wouldn’t be able to get the Death Eaters inside Hogwarts and he’d never kill Dumbledore. 

Draco’s heart began to race and a hard lump formed in his throat. _Sanctimonia Vincet Semper_. Purity will always conquer. Draco knew he ought to keep their motto close to his heart. Family was the purest love of all and Draco _had_ to keep fighting. Even though he was weary. Even though he’d exhausted all the magic he knew. Even though Draco was on his very last nerve he _had_ to keep trying. 

Draco was so tired. He was so bloody _tired_. He was a failure, both to his family and to himself. All he’d wanted was to make Mother proud and avenge Father’s disgrace. 

He couldn’t do it. The Cabinet wouldn’t yield to him. 

He was lower than a Flobberworm. He’d thrown away his life and he was only sixteen. 

Draco felt his legs go and he sagged forward, grabbing for a filthy sink. He clasped hold of the side of it with white knuckled fingers, his arms taut to bear his weight. Disgraceful, childish tears flooded down his cheeks as a dozen weeks of despair overtook him. 

“Everything is wrong Myrtle,” Draco said, horrified by the sight of his reflection. He looked like a hapless child bitten by his Father’s crup. He didn’t look like a killer. “Everything is wrong and there’s no way back. I’m… I’m irredeemable.”

“Don’t cry,” Myrtle sang, “ _don’t cry_ … It’s warm here, with me, with the dead. Come and be with me, Draco… don’t cry. I can help you…”

Draco knew what Myrtle was trying to do. She was a ghost, murmuring into his ear and trying to seduce him into staying at her side forever. Perhaps that’d be his penance. He’d haunt the ancient stones of Hogwarts, stuck forever in a purgatory of his own making. Myrtle’s voice echoed across the dirty tiles and the cobwebbed ceiling. She was everywhere and nowhere, whispering into the very edges of Draco’s subconscious, sliding into his head. 

“ **Don’t cry,”** Myrtle crooned. “ ** _Don’t_ … Tell me what’s wrong… I can help you.**”

“ **No one can help me,** ” Draco said, feeling his whole body shake with horror and rage. His family were going to die. His lovely mum, who had taught him to play the piano and speak French. His Father, who was hard and strict but had taken him riding and shown Draco his first magic spells. They both be dead soon, cold in their graves and it’d all be Draco’s fault. “ **I can’t do it. I can’t. It won’t work… And unless I do it soon… He says he’ll kill me**.”

Draco wiped away his tears with the back of his hand. As he lifted his head, Draco caught a movement in the back of the bathroom. Wild black hair. Burgundy robes. Green eyes. 

Circe’s teeth. It was _Potter_. Perfect Harry Potter, agent of his family's humiliation. 

Stupid Harry Potter who radiated goodness and light just by existing. Draco gritted his teeth, waves of impotent hurt rolling through him. Harry Potter, who was brave and wonderful and who swirled through Draco’s secret fantasies like a curse. 

Harry Potter, come to witness Draco’s greatest disgrace. 

Harry Potter, the Boy Who’d Lived to save them all. All of them except Draco. _Nobody_ could save him. 

Instinctively, Draco wheeled around and drew his wand. He sent a hex flying in Potter’s direction but the tricky wizard dodged it by inches. A lamp shattered into pieces beside him. 

Draco could hear the wail of Myrtle in the background, her sing-song voice broken with anguish. “ **No! No! Stop it!** ” Myrtle howled, her voice ringing in Draco’s ears. “ **STOP IT!** ” 

Water began to pour everywhere. It ran down the walls in a tide and sloshed out of the sinks. 

Myrtle screamed, and whimpered and the floor grew slick. Draco slipped and slid, diving out of the way of Potter’s magic. It took less than a second for an onslaught of spells to begin to fly between Potter and he. The dark haired wizard flicked his wand, flinging a _Levicorpus_ in Draco’s direction. Draco blocked it easily and raised his wand. 

Should he cast a _Crucio?_ He’d never used that spell before. Aunt Bella said you had to mean it – said that you needed to _focus_ every piece of your hatred through your wand – but Draco wasn’t sure he was strong enough. 

Suddenly, Draco could fathom duelling Potter any longer. If there was even a spark of soul left within him, the Cruciatus Curse would surely extinguish it. 

There’d be nothing left of his humanity, nothing at all. There wasn’t any coming back from an Unforgivable Curse. 

Draco felt his wand slip from the ends of his fingers as he sank down to his knees, the frigid water soaking through his wool trousers. Potter could cast his hexes, his spells and his sorcery if he wished.

Brave, wonderful _Harry_ could flay the skin from his body. 

Potter could cut Draco and make him bleed because nothing, _nothing_ mattered any longer. 

“Do it,” Draco screamed out, his voice loud in the eerie calm. Even Myrtle had fallen silent. “I’m disarmed! I’m on my fucking _knees!_ I know you hate me, Potter! I know you hate my family!” Draco waited, his heart beating in his throat. Tears rolled down his face and joined the water that dripped from the ceiling. Nausea and shock rolled through his belly. “I know you’ve been trailing me!” Draco snarled. “I’ve felt your eyes, following me wherever I go.”

Draco heard Potter step forward. The other wizard’s steps were cautious and Draco slowly raised his eyes. Potter still had his wand raised in a defensive posture but his face wasn’t the contemptuous, scornful glare that Draco expected to see. 

Potter’s eyes were narrow behind the metal frames of his glasses and his brow was furrowed. 

“I thought you’d have noticed,” Harry said, his voice more gentle that Draco could bear. “And I know you’re up to something, Malfoy. You go to the Room of Requirement at odd hours. You’re the one who brought the opal necklace from Knockturn Alley.” Draco watched the fingers on Potter’s wand tighten, almost imperceptibly. “Hermione thinks I’m bonkers but _I_ think you’ve been recruited. You’re one of _his_ , aren't you? A Death Eater?”

Draco couldn’t speak. He could scarcely breathe. 

The whole frightful mission had been exposed. It wouldn’t take more than a few drops of Veritaserum in Dumbledore’s office and Draco knew that he’d cough up everything. He’d tell the Headteacher about the Vanishing Cabinet and about the Dark Mark besmirching his forearm. Draco winced, waiting for Potter to bind him and unmask his pitch-black truths. 

Potter didn’t. Instead, he crouched down beside Draco. 

“You know,” Potter said, “in all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you looking quite as shit as you do right now.” Potter sighed. “Skinny as a _broomstick_. Your robes hanging off you. Your cherished hair lank and greasy. I _have_ been watching you, Malfoy. I think I’ve noticed something that nobody else has. Whatever it is that you’re trying to do is slowly destroying you.”

Draco hadn’t the faintest idea of how to respond to what Potter had said. He made a harsh sound, something between a laugh and a sob. 

“And why would _you_ care about me?” Draco hissed in reply, the words falling from his mouth in a violent torrent. “My family misfortune must be your greatest pleasure, Potter! You’ve loathed me from the day we met, you and your golden friends both! I’m sure you all laughed at my Father, rotting his life away in Azkaban.”

Potter made a scoffing sound. “You worry a little too much about what I think about, Malfoy! I’m not as riddled with schadenfreude as you want to believe. I’ve been too busy keeping myself and my friends alive.” Potter’s eyes flicked over Draco. “But you’re _not_ your family, Malfoy! You’re not their choices! You’re a child, just like _I_ am. Just like Hermione and Ron! Whatever you’ve been tasked to do, it isn’t your fault.”

Draco swallowed. “But he’ll kill them,” Draco whispered, his dignity dashed on the sopping wet floor. “The Dark Lord. He’ll kill my parents. Kill _me_.”

“He won’t,” Potter replied, wrapping his warm, powerful arms around Draco’s shuddering shoulders. “He won’t, because I won’t let him. I’m not going to hurt you, Malfoy. I’m going to help you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading xxxx


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